


Soul Bands

by Ampithoe



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, POV Multiple, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25222321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ampithoe/pseuds/Ampithoe
Summary: It's the fifth year at Watford, and as students reach age 16, they're getting their soulmarks. That means lots of anticipation and plenty of changes...
Relationships: Simon Snow/Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 47
Kudos: 267
Collections: Carry_On_Summer_Exchange_2020





	1. Keris

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Punchsomeoneforme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punchsomeoneforme/gifts).



>   
> 
> 
> I am so grateful to my wonderful betas [annabellelux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabellelux) and [tbazzsnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri/pseuds/tbazzsnow). The story is much better for their brainstorming and proofreading.
> 
> I have altered the canon timeline in various ways.

**Simon**

After the taxi lets me off at Watford I rush up to my room, dump my duffel in the wardrobe, and change into my uniform. Like always, it's clean and new and fits me perfectly. I leave off the stupid boater since I don't have to be in regulation uniform until term starts in four days. I throw open the window to let in the fresh air, lie down on the bed, and just revel in being in this familiar, personal space. It's quiet – there aren't a half dozen noisy boys in here, or a noisy city outside. It smells clean (if slightly dusty) and the view is beautiful. (It’ll smell like Baz’s fancy hair care products soon. Baz is a complete wanker, but he does make the place smell nice.) I've been relaxing for about half an hour when there's a knock on the door. I open it and it's Penny and a grin splits my face in two. I know she doesn't like scenes, so I don't grab her into a bone-crushing hug, but I can't help the grin. I've been enjoying being back in my room, but seeing Penny is a whole other level of wonderful – not just the comfort of being in a pleasant space with no enemies, but the joy of being with an actual friend.”Hey, Pen. How was your summer?”

“It was great! There are some new magic holes on the Isle of Man, which is terrible, obviously, but it meant we got to spend three weeks there while Dad studied them.” We sit on my bed and she tells me all about the island – about the hills and the valley, about the four-horned sheep, about the castle, about it being the first country to let women vote in a general election. She doesn't ask about my summer, because we both know what the answer would be: two and a half months in “care”, meaning not being taken care of. We both know I'm glad to be back, so she doesn't need to ask about that either.

After a while, we go down to the dining hall. There aren't many kids back yet – even Agatha isn't back yet – so we end up eating dinner with Keris. She's got some shiny red fabric bunched around her right wrist. Penny points to it and exclaims “Oh! Did you have your birthday?”

Keris grins and blushes. “Yes, last week.”

Oh. The red fabric must be Keris's soul band. Metal or leather is more common, but a soul band can be made out of anything that's opaque. In the homes, they usually just buy terry cloth athletic wristbands in bulk because that's cheapest. I start to ask “What does your mark say?” but Penny kicks me hard before I get more than the first word out, and then she starts asking Keris about how she spent her summer. After dinner, she pulls me aside.

“ _ Simon! _ You never ask somebody what their soulmark says or who their soulmate is! That's the whole point of soul bands, keeping that private.”

Oh. I guess I hadn't thought that through. There's a lot of stuff about how to act with people that you don't get taught in the homes – the rules of ordinary society, anyway. Life in the homes has its own set of survival-of-the-fittest rules that I learned the hard way, like we all do, and that I don't think Penny or even Baz could navigate without a guide. Well, hopefully they'll never have to, and I have Penny to be my guide to the rules of life in the wider world (and the World of Mages, which is yet another set of rules).

Agatha's going to get her soulmark next month – I'm sure it will say ”Simon”, but it will be good to have it settled for sure. To know that, come what may, whatever happens, if I survive the Humdrum and Baz Pitch, I'll have her by my side. She's so pretty and light-filled and soothing. I'm eager for her return to Watford, but I know from past years that she probably won't show up until just before the back-to-school picnic on Tuesday.

**Penelope**

I should stop being surprised by the things Simon doesn't know. He's had a very hit-or-miss upbringing – no magickal lore until he came to Watford, of course, but even for a Normal there are strange gaps in his knowledge. They more or less feed and clothe him in those care homes, and I guess the kids who are in them year round get sent to school, but all the things you would learn in a family, from chewing with your mouth shut to not asking about someone's soulmark, just doesn't get covered. I love him to pieces and tell him what I can but I also don't get too bent out of shape about him being odd.

Anyway, I have a shrewd guess about what Keris's mark says. She and Trixie were never close before, but once Trixie shows up the day after me and Simon, Keris is in and out of our room all the time – offering to help Trixie unpack, bringing her a snack, asking if she wants to take a walk on the lawn. It makes the room feel crowded, and if they do end up together I hope they spend some of their time in Keris's room as well. Or the grounds. Or a deserted classroom. Anywhere, really, that's not our room, because if it keeps up at this level it's going to drive me to distraction.

**Baz**

I return to Watford just in time for the welcome-back picnic. I get my things up to my room and saunter out to the Great Lawn. Snow is lined up for food – of course. I nod to Dev and Niall and they come over to me. Good men. “What's the news, lads?”

“First soulmark of the year,” says Dev. “One of the girls – Kerri? Keris? What is her name? The one with the hijab.”

I look around and see Keris giggling with Trixie, their heads together and pixie dust flying. I guess she's one of the lucky ones who already knew their soulmate. You never know; some people don't meet them until later, or go their whole lives without meeting them.

I don't even know whether I get a mark. Do I have a soul? Am I alive enough? I'll find out in February. It's going to be a long five months.

As soon as I start to think about soulmates, I start to think about Simon Snow. I can’t help it. My eyes find him in the crowd but I can’t enjoy the view because he’s looking at me, so I scowl at him and look away.

**Simon**

I love the picnic at the start of the year. The food's brilliant and it's so great to have everybody back, my good friends like Penny and Agatha and friendly folks like Rhys and Gareth. Even Baz – he's not a friend, but when I know where he is it somehow feels right, more right than in the summer when he could be anywhere or might even not exist for all I can tell. I load up my plate with sandwiches and chicken and all sorts and look around for Agatha. I haven't seen her yet, but she wouldn't miss the picnic.

Before I find her, I see Baz. He's standing with Dev and Niall, as handsome as ever and looking stormy. He’s probably thinking about how he can't believe he's stuck with a bunch of losers like us. Tosser. I mean, I know he’s fitter and more talented than any bloke in our year, but does he have to make it so obvious that he knows it?

His glance meets mine briefly and becomes a glare. I look away, and then I see Penny and Agatha sitting on a plaid blanket (Agatha's, probably – her mum is very big on plaids). I hurry over to them and take a seat. “Agatha! How are you?”

“Fine, thank you,” she says, offering her pale, perfectly made up cheek for a kiss. The three of us sit and talk and eat for hours. Agatha tells us about equestrian events and the Club and a week her family spent on the Riviera. Penny tells Agatha the same things she told me about the Isle of Man. I don't mind listening to it again – Penny is full of energy when she's excited about something, and if she's bothering to tell you about it, the chances are pretty good that she's excited (or else it's something she thinks you need to hear, and then she's trying to be gentle). They're both too nice to ask about my summer, but that's okay. I'm eating piles of wonderful food and waving at friendly people and sitting with my two best friends and everything's right with the world.

Pen and Agatha both say they want to turn in early with classes starting tomorrow, so I go off to bed myself. I don't want to end up changing at the same time as Baz. This way I can be done with all that before he gets back to the room.

I still haven't said a word to Baz, or heard a word from him. That's typical of us. He spent the evening with his mates, looking over the rest of the school with a superior eye. Evaluating us and finding us wanting, I'm sure. I grit my teeth at the thought.

I've been in bed maybe ten minutes when Baz comes in. I turn towards the wall and he doesn't say anything. It feels right, having him back in the room. I don't really like the dance of avoidance that we do so that we don't see each other dress, don't meet each other's eyes, don't even need to fight over who gets the shower. It's familiar, though. We have our routines and we're sliding back into them. I sigh and slide towards sleep.

**Baz**

After an evening of (not) eating, chatting with Dev and Niall, and looking surreptitiously at Snow, I climb back up to our room. He's there before me, already showered and in bed, and as soon as I walk in he turns to the wall. Of course he doesn't want anything to do with me; he never has.

Well. Perhaps not never. At the Crucible ceremony, he reached out for my hand, and I just stood there as long as I could, not wanting to give in to the pull. Could things have been different, if I'd put on a happy, friendly smile and made nice? Perhaps. But I wasn't feeling happy or friendly, so I held back, and sometimes I feel like that set the tone for us ever since.

I duck into the en suite to change into my pyjamas, then climb into bed. The room smells of damp hero. I hear his breathing and his heartbeat. The rush of his blood beneath his skin. He smells like a feast, like pastry and bacon and smoke; I find myself wondering how he would taste.

Taste? Who wants to know how their roommate would  _ taste _ ?

Me, apparently.

Is it his skin or his blood that I want to taste? I don't know, but either way, I'm ashamed. He's my enemy, the Mage's Heir; he's going to try to kill me sooner or later. Sooner if I try to taste him, of course.

I had to start drinking blood this summer. I've always been able to hear people's heartbeats (well, since I was five years old) (since I was bitten). But I could ignore it. It was like rain on the windowpane or the engine of a well-tuned car: there if I listened to it. In the spring, it became impossible to ignore. And I started to feel hungry and thirsty all the time, no matter how much ordinary food and drink I had. I made it to the end of term, but it was a near thing; I was beginning to feel ill (which never happens to me). I felt itchy all the time. I was distracted during my exams, and there were two subjects where I actually came second to Bunce.

That's not happening again.

I made it until I got home, but I knew what I had to do. I went out, and through a frustrating, error-filled, and humiliating process I learned to hunt and to drink.

I began to feel better after the first squirrel. I drank squirrels and rabbits and deer. I learned that foxes taste nasty. I didn't even try badger.

I had the luxury of learning those things in the privacy of the Hampshire woods. I got to drink from clean things under the open sky.

I didn't discuss it with my parents, but they clearly knew. Daphne would stop Mordelia coming with me if I said I was going for a walk.

It's going to be different here. There are animals in the Wavering Wood, but people go there. Snow goes there all too often. It wouldn't be safe.

I've thought and thought about it, all summer, and I can only see one option: the Catacombs. I've been there many times to visit my mother's tomb, to talk to her, to bring her flowers. So I know my way around, and I know I won't encounter anyone else there.

And I know that there are plenty of rats.

The idea sickens me, but I don't see what choice I have. I need the blood, and there's no other way to get it that doesn't risk discovery. And discovery would mean the end of Watford for me, and perhaps the end of me altogether. Which might be for the best, but I'm not going to make it that easy for anybody.

I don't need to go tonight; I hunted before we left Pitch Manor this morning. But ideally I should go tomorrow, and if not then, absolutely the day after.

For now, I lie in my bed, smelling Simon Snow and trying to sleep.


	2. Agatha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agatha thinks predestination is rubbish.

**Agatha**

My birthday is at the beginning of October. I envy people who have summer birthdays, since they can celebrate with their families, and at 16 they get some time away from school pressures to adjust to whatever they learn about their soulmates. Here at school, Penny and Simon will probably wish me a happy birthday (Simon may not remember until he hears Penny say it first). I was born at three in the morning – my mother seems to think that was rather inconsiderate of me – so I put my soul band on before I go to bed. I chose it over the summer – Father took me to Bond Street, and I picked an elegant, minimalist platinum cuff. I'll take it off briefly in the morning to reveal my golden destiny.

It's rubbish, isn't it, having your fate appear on your wrist? What would it be like if we could just look for someone who – who  _ fit  _ with us, instead of being told? Some people look forever and never find their soulmate. How many of those people give up a chance of happiness with someone who is lovely to them, but doesn't match the writing on their skin?

There are websites now that help you find your soulmate based on the names you're both marked with. If you're a Bartholomew marked for a Cassandra, a database may be able to find a Cassandra marked for Bartholomew pretty quickly. But for a pair with more common names like Jessica and William or José and Maria, it's going to be harder. Not many kids are named Agatha these days; maybe that will help me out.

But do I really want to find my destined mate by looking in a database? Having your true love's name appear on your skin has a certain romance. Having it appear in a list of search results? Less romantic.

Having it be the boy you've been with for four years, who will probably say something nice on your birthday once his sidekick reminds him? Also less romantic.

Those are the sorts of thoughts I'm thinking as I turn on my side and bunch my pillow up under my head, as I say good night to Philippa, as I lie there in my bed wishing I was more excited for tomorrow.

I wake up early to the sunlight coming in through the many-paned window. I rub my eyes and the weight of my soul band on my wrist reminds me what day it is. I sigh and open the clasp and turn my hand palm up – and gasp. It doesn't say  _ Simon _ , like I expect it to; it says  _ Ginger _ . 

I don't know a Ginger.

And suddenly life seems full of possibility.

**Simon**

Agatha's not at breakfast, which surprises me, and I say so to Penny.

“Maybe she's having a lie-in for her birthday,” she responds. Right. Today is Agatha’s birthday. How did I manage to forget that? I’m glad Penny reminded me -- I mean, Ags knows I’m terrible at these things, but  _ still _ . I need to remember to tell her happy birthday when I see her. I butter another scone and wave at Rhys and Gareth, who are on their way into the dining hall with a few minutes to spare before the end of breakfast.

I finally see Agatha in Magic Words and wish her many happy returns before Miss Possibelf starts the lesson. She thanks me and gets busy with her notebook. She's not very chatty today. I notice her soul band. It's not very interesting, just a smooth cuff of shiny metal – silver, maybe? Anyway, I tell her it looks pretty and she thanks me without looking up. I look away from her to Penny, who's on the other side of me. She's looking at Agatha with a faint wrinkle between her eyes.

It's a few days before I get any time alone with Agatha. On Thursday afternoon, I ask if she'd like to take a walk outside the gates. Really what I want to do is sit under the yew tree or near the edge of the Wavering Wood and hold hands and kiss a little. She doesn't look super excited at the idea, but she does say yes.

We're talking about classes and the weather and really not much and then as we get near the yew tree she slows down. Maybe she had the same idea. She turns towards me and takes a deep breath.

“Simon.”

“Yeah?” I lift my hand to touch her hair. It's silky and smooth, bright in the sunshine.

“Simon. I got my...” She breaks off and steps away from me. “I don't think we should see each other any more.”

“What?” I heard her, and her words are plain enough, but they don't make sense. I drop my hand and look at her, confused.

“I'm... You're not my soulmate. You're a good person, and I'm sure you'll be marked for someone wonderful, but it's not me, and I think we should stop.”

I can't quite take it in. We were together. We were going to be together, I finally had someone. “But, Agatha...”

“I'm sorry, Simon.” And she turns and walks back towards the gates. Without me.

I always thought that a soulmark would give me my first real chance to belong to someone. I didn't think about the fact that a soulmark could cancel a connection, too. I mean, I guess everyone knows in theory that a relationship before age 16 is … I dunno, practice? Conditional? But I still wasn't expecting this.

**Baz**

At dinner, I notice that Wellbelove isn't sitting with Bunce and Snow – that's unusual. She's sitting with the pixie and her girlfriend, who are so caught up in each other that they rarely have company. I wonder what's going on there. If she's on the outs with Snow, it will provide some excellent opportunities to twist his tail. I know Wellbelove finds me intriguing and attractive (really, who wouldn't?) (it's not vanity if it's the truth) and I can do something with that.

**Simon**

I don't have my normal appetite at dinner. I mean I still eat, of course, but I'm not eating much more than Penny is, and that's pretty unusual for me. She notices, of course. “Simon, is everything okay? You're just picking at your food, and it's not like Agatha to avoid us.”

I wrinkle up my forehead and pull at my hair. “She broke up with me. Her birthday present to herself, I guess.”

Penny has this very worried, kind look that makes me really self-conscious. “Oh Simon, I'm sorry. So she... I mean, is it about her soulmark?”

You don't ask what somebody's soulmark says, but I guess you can ask roundabout questions. Or maybe there are things you can ask if you're Penny but not if you're me. That's not a very worthy, friendly thought, but I defiantly think it anyway.

“Yeah,” I huff. “She's marked for someone else. She wouldn't say who. I have no idea whether she knows them or not, even. Just that she 'thinks we should stop',”

Pen looks thoughtful. I wonder if she's considering saying something about how Ags and I weren't that good together anyway, or how I'll find someone else. If she is, she thinks better of it and just pats my hand.

**Agatha**

I don't find Trixie particularly interesting but Keris is all right. And I'm not going to sit alone, and I don't want to sit with Simon and Penny tonight. I guess I hope that Simon and I can be friends – my parents would want that, and I imagine Penny will insist on it – but it's not time yet. Keris and Trixie were here before me and they finish first. They head off, giggling, probably to look for somewhere to make out. I'm happy for them, at least in theory, but they're certainly not being discreet.

I'm finishing up the last of my chocolate mousse when Baz Pitch comes over. He leans his elbow on the table and says “Well, hello, Wellbelove. How are you?” He cocks an eyebrow, which his words aren't really interesting enough to justify. I answer with a polite nothing while my brain goes into overdrive. I'm newly single... partly because I'm marked for Ginger... but I don't know who “Ginger” is... and my reaction to the mark was to feel that life was full of new possibilities... and this might just be one of them.

“I was just finishing,” I say. “I thought I would go to the library and do some studying. Would you like to come along?”

“I was hoping you would say something like that,” he replies, a small smile gracing his lips. I shake out my hair and we rise to leave. Together.

**Simon**

Penny and I finish our meal in silence. I'm just done with my pudding – only one helping tonight – when I see Baz get up and go over to the table where Agatha is sitting alone. He leans down and says something to her, lifting one eyebrow in that infuriating way of his (I just can't get mine to do that; I've tried – but he's as slick and elegant at that as he is at everything else, the tosser). I feel my face getting warm and my jaw clenching.

I've lost all track of what Penny is saying. Baz and Agatha exchange another couple of sentences, Baz quirks his pouty lips in a smile, and they stand up and leave the hall together.

“Simon!” Penny hisses. I don't think it's the first time she's said it.

I shake my head and look at her. “What?”

“You're smoldering... let's get out of here.”

“Right, okay,” I say, and we head out to the Great Lawn. “Did you see that, Pen?”

“See what?”

“Baz practically picked Agatha up! She just broke up with me. That's not fair!”

Pen makes this interesting shape with her mouth and then speaks carefully. “I didn't see it, of course, since I was facing the wrong way. But unless he actually forced her, an interaction like that takes two people. And I don't think there's some kind of official cooling off period that he has to wait for. They're both free people, Simon.” She's got that sticky-feeling  _ sympathetic  _ look again. It bothers me, but her words have me thinking. I don't think he forced her as such, at least I didn't see anything that looked like that, but...

“What if he tricked her? What if she was supposed to be soulmarked to me but he enchanted it to look like it was to him?”

“Simon, calm down. You're starting to smoke.” She's right; the heat has spread from my face to my whole body, and when I stop to sniff there's a distinct toasted note to the air.

“Okay, but only if you help me figure this out.” I start pacing in my agitation and she follows speedily after (her legs are short but she can really move them when she needs to). She tries to talk me down from my suspicions, says she's never heard of anyone successfully altering or obscuring a soulmark. I point out that Baz is both devious and brilliant; she grants me brilliant but says I can't prove devious.

“Oh yeah? Just watch me!” Penny is beginning to look rather alarmed, as if she doesn't know quite what I might do. Honestly, I don't either.

“Look, Simon. I don't think it's possible. But if you want, I'll write to my dad. He's made a special study of every kind of family, marriage, and romance magic. He's got an extensive library; if such a thing has ever been done, he'll know about it. Just, don't do anything drastic in the meantime, okay?”

I don't like it, and she can tell that I don't like it, and I'm glad she can tell. But I agree...for now.

**Baz**

When I get back to the room, Snow is there, frowning at a textbook and attacking a piece of paper with a biro – not writing so much as stabbing. He smells smokier than usual; I take it that my little play with Wellbelove had the desired effect. I wouldn't normally say a word to him, but I just can't resist. “All right, Snow?” He jumps up, slamming his pen down and knocking over his chair. He must not have heard me come in – I move very quietly, and he was preoccupied.

“No I bloody well am not all right, you tosser! What in the name of hell were you playing at with Agatha?” He's practically screaming; it's very satisfying. He charges towards me and his face – which is an intriguing shade of red – is just inches from mine.

“Tut, tut, Snow. Anathema, after all. And I see nothing to get excited about in two fellow students walking to the library together for an after dinner... study session.” I step neatly around him and put my things down on my desk. He growls (it's a remarkable sound, genuinely savage) and charges into the en suite, slamming the door with impressive force. The door's survival is really a testament to centuries of reinforcing enchantments. I whistle softly to myself, pick up my Greek text, and settle down for some translation.

**Simon**

I feel like I'm going mad. It seems like every time I see Agatha she's with a different guy. I see her with Dev walking across the Great Lawn, with Baz near the door to the Cloisters, asking Gareth to loan her a pen in Magic Words. Every time I see Penny, I ask whether she's heard from her father, and she's getting a little testy about it, since sometimes I only go an hour between asking. I can't help it – I'm desperate to know what's going on.

Finally, after several excruciating days, she hears from him. Apparently there is no known case of a soulmark being altered or obscured or a person being misled about what their soulmark says. There are all kinds of ways that you can fail to find love with your soulmate. Penny says that 17% of people never even find their soulmate, and of course, you might never even be sure – when the names are common ones, even if they match up it's no guarantee, since it's only Christian names. Across cultures, across history, as soon as a language has a written form, every person gets an imprint of their soulmate's personal name on their 16th birthday (down to the minute). It’s always whatever the culture recognizes as the primary personal name, and never includes their family name. No one knows why, or how it works. It's been going on for thousands of years; the art in the Pyramids shows people with hieroglyphics on their wrists.

Anyway, all kinds of things can mess it up. Iago persuaded Othello that Desdemona was unfaithful to him, even though they were soulmates. (Okay, they're fictional, but it's based on the kind of things that can happen.) (Penny gave me that example; I don't know anything about Shakespeare.) People can distrust or betray or even murder their soulmates. But, apparently, they absolutely cannot be tricked about what their mark says (at least, if they're able to read; you might be able to lie to an illiterate person. But blind people have been getting soulmarks in Braille ever since it was invented).

I tell Pen about all the guys I've been seeing Agatha with, and she points out that if it was a question of her being misled about her soulmark (which, she repeats, is impossible), it would be more likely for her to be seen with just one guy than a bunch of them, and also that borrowing a pen is not very romantic. Actually, I don’t know why she’s chatting with so many guys anyway. I mean, if someone had a chance at Baz, why would they bother with anyone else?


	3. Baz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Baz's birthday; will he get a soulmark?

**Baz**

My birthday is in February, a couple of weeks after Valentine's day (sodding awful holiday). I’m in Greek class, but I can’t focus on the lesson. (It's not a problem; I'm months ahead of the class.) All I can think about is the time. I was born at 10:22, so my soulmark (if I get one) will appear 8 minutes before the end of class. I'm wearing my mother's soul band; my father gave it to me at Christmastime. It's a wide silver cuff in the Art Nouveau style with elegant, elongated narcissi on it. He told me ' _ This was your mother's. I know she would want you to have it. _ ' I looked down at it, willing my eyes not to tear up, or at least not to well over. I knew that, like me, he was hoping there would be something for it to hide and, like me, he didn't know whether there would be or not.

At 10:22 I feel a very strong urge to leave the room and check under my cuff, but I pride myself on my self-control – I need to have something to be proud of. I stay and wait out the agonizingly long minutes until class ends. Fortunately, I have a free period next. I could just go to a bathroom stall, but I think I'd rather be sure of being completely alone. I head back to Mummers, disciplining myself to maintain a sedate pace. I climb steadily up the stairs to our room, not letting myself run, not sparing a glance for my cuff. I get to the room, place my books on the desk, and lock myself in the en suite – I won't risk having Snow walk in on this.

I take a deep breath. I both desperately want to know what's beneath my cuff, and don't want to know in the least.

I take off the cuff, and I look.

It's not blank.

It's not blank!

In fact, it says… _ Simon _ .

I blink in stupefaction.

Simon? Really? I damn the stupidity of a universe that marks our fates on our wrists, but can't be bothered to give specifics. I'm relieved to know that I have a soul, or enough of one to have a soulmate. He even has the same name as the boy I've been feeling more attraction, more devotion, more, dare I say it, love for week by week all year. But is it Simon  _ Snow _ ? The boy who hates me, who has done everything he can to get away from me, to hurt me, to get me expelled or worse? Or is there some other Simon somewhere else, one who is actually gay, one who would actually love and care for me (or at least not despise me)? Or, perhaps worst of all, is it in fact my Simon (my Simon! That's a thing that Simon Snow will never truly be), but unrequited? Unrequited soul bonds are rare, but they have been demonstrated. There have even been at least two proven soul bond triangles – A loves B loves C loves A, and no real happiness to be found for any of the three.

A soul bond is no guarantee of a happy ending. Romeo and Juliet didn’t get a happy ending. Neither did my Aunt Fiona – I don't know the details, but she told me a few things once when she was drunk. She was marked for another magician, someone she knew, but it ended and they'll never be together. Now she dates Normals – never the same one for very long – and tries to look punk, but I think she's always sad and angry under that bravado. And I don't think I’ll get a happy ending either. How could I?

**Simon**

When I see Baz in Greek, he's wearing a fancy silver cuff on his right wrist. It must be his birthday. I need to know what's on his skin underneath it – nothing, I bet. How can a dead thing, a Dark creature, have a soulmate? Does he even have a soul? I can't follow him now, though – Penny's in my next class and she'll give me hell if I'm not there.

I don't see Baz again until the late afternoon. He has a violin lesson then – I know his schedule to the last detail – and I wait outside the door. He comes out and I grab his right hand. “Oi, Baz! That's a bit of flash! Lemme see it.” 

He sneers and jerks his hand away, but not before I see the flowers on his band.

“Well that's pretty lah-di-dah for a boy. What's it say under that cheap piece of shiny metal?” I want to know whether it's Agatha or some other pretty girl that's going to get my roommate.

He looks down his nose at me. “Crowley, Snow, you really are an animal. Even the chavviest Normal knows better than to ask what's under a soul band. You're sub-human.” He turns and strides towards the stairs that lead down to the ground level and the dining hall. I'm determined not to let him get away before I've gotten a real answer out of him, or at least some real feelings. 

I run after him. I reach him as he gets to the top of the stairs, grab his arm, and spin him to face me. “That's rich, coming from you! Talk about not being human. You're a Dark creature, you're a dead thing! I'll bet that pot metal is covering up nothing but bare skin. No one is going to be fated to love YOU!”

I've done it. I've cracked his cool exterior. His cheeks flush faintly; if he were human, he'd be going brick red or stark white. He sets his violin case down to one side and turns back to me. I grin with triumph as he grabs my collar in his left hand and hauls off with his right. He strikes a mighty blow against my chin and my consciousness explodes into pain and white light. I feel myself going over backwards and suddenly everything is confusion, tumbling and banging and pain and I slide away from consciousness as I hit the landing.

**Baz**

Crowley! I was furious at Snow and he bloody deserved the sock in the jaw, but I didn't mean to send him flying down the stairs. It would be a perfect tragic soulmark story if he  _ is  _ my soulmate and I've killed him the day I became marked for him. I rush to the bottom of the stairs and I'm relieved to find him breathing. I look around and can't see anyone that I can send for help. I don't want to leave him alone, so I quickly scribble a note, summon a bird, and send it off to the infirmary. He starts to stir but isn't fully conscious. 

The nurse appears in under ten minutes – they feel like very long minutes – and confirms that it is safe to move him. She asks me to carry him to the infirmary where he'll spend the night. Just my luck – I get to carry the boy who may be the love of my life over a threshold that does  _ not  _ lead to my bedroom, because I've injured him, perhaps severely. I carry him carefully; he stirs in my arms. He says “Baz?” very muzzily. Kill me now. Once I've got him laid on the infirmary cot, I leave, trailing my few remaining shreds of dignity.


	4. Simon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Simon to get his soulmark. Baz is almost as eager as Simon to find out what it says. This calls for some plotting and stalking!

**Simon**

More than half the kids in our class are wearing soul bands by the end of May, but not me. I don't actually even know when my birthday is. The date on my birth certificate is just a guess, based on how old I looked when I was found. I want to be on the safe side, so on the first day of June I go to the infirmary and ask if they have something I can use as a soul band. They give me an elastic wrist brace which I start wearing everywhere. It gets dirty fast – the white fabric shows every crumb of food and bit of ink or pencil – so I wash it with soap when I shower. 

That's also when I check underneath it to see if I've gotten my soulmark. Nothing yet, but every time I look, I can't help but wonder – who will she be? Do I already know her? Is it Agatha, after all? Is it, heaven help me, Philippa? Or is it someone I don't know, who I can look forward to meeting? Whose existence will make my heart jump every time I ask a girl her name, because it might be  _ the _ name? I long for it, to have someone, somewhere, who I truly belong with. I've never had a parent or a sibling – my “foster father” isn't family – and, while my relationship with Penny is very special, she'll eventually be marked for someone else.

Won't she?

Crowley, is there any chance that she's my soulmate? We've been close since my first week at Watford; nobody else knows me or cares about me like she does. But I've never felt romantic about her or attracted to her. I guess if we're soulmates we'll figure out how to make it work, but I kind of hope we aren’t, because that would just be weird.

**Baz**

Snow starts wearing a white elastic band on his wrist at the beginning of June. I wish him a happy birthday when I see it (out of character for me, I know) and he snaps at me. "It's probably not my birthday, you wanker. Some of us don't have the luxury of, y'know, actually knowing for sure. Or getting fancy silver cuffs. Some of us take what we're given and cope with it.”

I feel like a heel. Of course, this doesn't mean that I actually apologize. I wouldn't know how, after all this animosity, for one thing, and Snow would simply think I was plotting, for another.

But I'm desperate to know what will appear there, and when. Is there any chance that it will actually be my name? And how will he react if it is? Not well, I imagine.

I keep watching him every day – I've always done that, of course, but now I'm analysing his manner and behavior for any hint that he's gotten his soulmark. (Of course,  _ he  _ doesn't have to doubt that he will get one, the lucky bag of blood.) I don't see anything obvious, so as we near the end of the academic year I still have no idea what's going on. If he were marked for me I'm sure there would be some change – more likely an explosion than a romantic approach, sadly – but if he were marked for someone else he would still show something, surely? He has never been subtle in any way, even when he tries to be (which isn’t often).

He’s just started wearing a band, so he must have some reason to believe that his birthday will be soon. I definitely don't want to wait until the autumn to find out what happens, but how can I know what’s going on over the summer? There's no way to get him to communicate with me long distance (we barely communicate when we're sharing a room), and the odds aren't much better with his inseparable Bunce. I don't know where he spends his summers, and no one is likely to tell me.

Who even knows? He does, but there's no possibility there, nor with Bunce. The Mage must know – surely even such a distinctly un-paternal “foster father” must at least know their charge's whereabouts. He would never tell me anything, but he must have records – and he doesn't know that I can get into his rooms whenever I want, thanks to the wards that my mother set when they were hers. All I need now is a time that I'm guaranteed that he will be away.

The opportunity comes just a week before the end of term. I come back to the room to find Snow cramming things into a duffel.

“What are you up to, Snow? You do know there's a week left before the break?”

“Stuff it, Baz! The Mage needs me to go to Bristol with him – there've been snobgoblins attacking Normals there for a while, and it's getting worse.”

He must be distracted; it's rare for him to give me so much information about his deeds of glory. “Well, I'm glad to know that's more important than your studies or running the school,” I reply coolly, while silently being grateful for the information. Going to Bristol and back, not to mention battling snobgoblins (they're punctilious but ferocious, especially good at cutting glances), will keep them both busy at least overnight. He slams out of the room and I follow at a more leisurely pace. I watch until I have seen him meet the Mage in the courtyard and the two of them exit through the gate. I then return to the turret and the studying I had already planned for the afternoon; I'll wait until after dark to infiltrate the Mage's office.

After dinner, I go to the Catacombs to hunt – for once, I don't have to worry about Snow following me – and then I go to the Weeping Tower instead of back to Mummers House. It's largely deserted at night, though I can hear papers rustling and a lone heart beating – probably a teacher marking essays or some such. I make my way to the elevator and up to the Mage's office. It's a mess – Mother would be appalled. I suppose desecrating the headmaster's office is hardly the worst thing he's done during his tenure, but it's the one that's infuriating me right now.

I look through piles of paper in, on, and under the desk (the computer keyboard is dusty enough that it's not my first target). I finally find some scrawled notes (his handwriting is nearly as dreadful as Snow's) giving the phone number and address of a council home in Greenwich, along with an administrator's name and giving the first day of break as “arrival”. This must be it. I copy the information down and make my escape, plotting (Snow would be right for once) how to make use of it.

I want to spend the summer in London so that I can keep an eye on Snow. I start with Fiona, who reluctantly agrees that I can stay with her. Father is somewhat resistant – he indicates without anything so gross as  _ saying  _ it that he doesn't know where I can get blood in London, but Fiona points out that butchers sell it. I insist that I really want to spend time at the British Museum getting closer to my Egyptian roots, and somewhere between Fi's practicality and my appeal to Mother's memory we win the day. With two new infants, I think Daphne feels it would be simpler to have me elsewhere. I do hope I achieve my objective in the city in time to go to Hampshire at least briefly before the start of Autumn term – I'd love to see Daphne and Mordelia and, while I'm not a huge fan of babies, I should at least set eyes on my newest siblings.

I continue to watch Snow through revision and exams. He seems more or less his usual self – he complains more than he revises, but since his best friend is Bunce, he revises more than he would otherwise. (And I'm sure that she revises less than she would otherwise, which is helpful to my quest to come top of our year – but I want to win by my efforts, not her default.) I research the care home on Google Maps at times I'm certain that Snow won't be around – the last thing I need is for him to spot me when I am actually plotting. It's at the end of a dreary looking brick terrace, next to all the wheelie bins. I don't see how they get 10 lads plus a supervising adult in there when property listings show that the entire row are two-bedroom homes.

Fiona picks me up from school on the morning after my last exam. I say “morning”; she doesn't arrive until 2 in the afternoon and still complains about how early it is. I'm chafing every moment; I won't be able to start my surveillance of Snow until tomorrow. I have dinner with Fi at her local – I don't think she's cooked a meal in the last decade – and go to bed early. I'd like to start my stakeout by 9 am, and it'll take me an hour to get there by Tube and bus. I get up at 7 (I'm not sure whether this is love or obsession, but either way, it's powerful – I am never up at this hour). I snort in amusement at the thought that even when he's not banging around the room I sleep in, Snow still manages to wake me far too early. I make my way to the home and station myself against the wall of the building opposite. I cast  **nothing to see here** on myself and start in on the sandwich I picked up on the way.

It's a long day. A damned boring long day with no sign of Snow, though I see other boys going in and out. Some of them play football on some anaemic grass on the next block. I finally head back to Fiona's at 5 pm, hungry and stiff from standing all day and eating nothing but the one sandwich. That's the pattern of my days – in the evening, dinner with Aunt Fiona – takeaway or the pub or something similarly quick and cheap. We usually watch telly in the flat afterwards, though she'll often go out drinking and try to get me to go with her. She thinks that all museums and no bars is a shocking way for a lad of 16 to spend a summer in the big city. I tell her, with bitter irony, that I'm saving myself for my soulmate – then regret it when she tries to pry out definite information as to my soulmate's gender. (She's got too much class to ask after their name or identity.)

My days I spend leaning or sitting against a building, watching for Snow and tailing him when he does come out. Once or twice a week he goes to a small bottle shop and buys a mint Aero bar, which he eats on the street. Many days he goes to a nearby library – what on earth is  _ Simon Snow _ doing in a  _ library  _ when it isn't even term time? Sometimes he goes running (I'm sure the sedentary nature of his summer is getting to him – at Watford, he's forever slashing at things with his sword to let off steam).

Not once do I see him doing anything, whether football or anything else, with the other boys from the home. He's friendly and gregarious at Watford, with a smile and a warm word for most people who aren't me (not that I'm bitter) – so why not here? Do the others spurn him? I find myself offended on his behalf.

**Simon**

I get sent to a different care home every summer. This year it's in Greenwich. The address is different but everything else is the same – well, it's a bit more cramped than most, I suppose because of London property prices. I spend a lot of time looking at the ceiling and a fair amount of time watching television. I find a nearby library where I can read comics and surf the Internet. I don't talk to any of the other boys at the home – none of them want to talk to me. My aura of magic puts them off, plus they all knew each other and had their friendships and pecking order established before I got here. I miss Penny and Agatha and Rhys and Gareth and everybody else at Watford. Crowley, I even miss Baz -- sure, we fight all the time, but at least it’s interaction.

Whenever I go to the loo I check under my wrist brace. Being so isolated here makes me long even more to find out the name of the person who's going to be the answer to the loneliness I have felt all my life. Watford is the only place I haven't been lonely, and I'll only be there two more years. Penny and I have talked about living together when she goes to uni, but it won't be the same as Watford, where there's magic everywhere and instead of driving people away, my strange, smoky magic draws people closer to me.

For about two weeks, my skin stays blank. Then one morning – I think it's a Tuesday, though without school, days and dates are really losing their meaning – I wake up around 9 and go to piss. I pull the elastic on my wrist aside and glance down. I'm shocked when it's not blank. I'm far, far more shocked when I see what it says:  _ Tyrannus _ .

I only know one Tyrannus, and I doubt there are many others in the country or even the world.

What the hell does this mean?

I just cannot think about this while stewing in place, surrounded by people who won't talk to me. I need to get out and move. I'd love to smash some things up with my sword, but that would definitely get me into trouble around here. The best I can do is get out on the streets. I start walking, not even thinking about direction or destination. I don't care where I end up; I just want to use my muscles and breathe deep.

I had thought that Baz was behind it when Agatha got her soulmark and used it as a reason to break up with me. At the time I thought maybe he wanted her for himself, but they didn't end up together, though I did see him throwing eyes at her and chatting her up a fair few times. She talked to plenty of other boys too, and not any one of them in particular, so it doesn't seem like she was marked for him (or thought she was, either). And Penny insisted that there was no way you could alter a soulmark or deceive someone about their mark. I've never actually heard of it happening, even though people tell urban legends about soulmarks all the time.

But.

If it  _ is  _ some trick of Baz's, what's the point? He doesn't even like me. Is it some new way to make me miserable or drive me mad?

And if somehow it's not a trick...if it's actually real, my real mark – then I guess Baz is actually my real soulmate. Even if someone else besides the Pitches is mad enough to name a baby Tyrannus, I think that the one who's a mage, the one who's my age, the one who goes to my school, that has to be the one who's my soulmate.

But.

For starters, he's a bloke. I've never been interested in blokes that way that I know of. I mean, I suppose he's good looking for a bloke. Okay, he's definitely good looking. Very good looking. He has beautiful, flowing, touchable hair. And stunning eyes. And muscular legs. He's lean and muscular everywhere. He's got a lovely voice and he's intelligent and he's good at everything he does.

That doesn't mean that I like blokes, let alone that I like  _ him _ . Does it? 

Anyway, even if I did like him (which I don't), Baz hates me. He despises me. He resents me. He's tried to kill me. Recently. He insults me. Daily.

Also, he's dead. Not human. A Dark thing.

How could he be my soulmate?

He could be an unrequited soulmate. I have heard of that happening. No one knows how common it is – Penny said that 17% of people never find their soulmates. How often is that because their soulmate is marked for someone else? Or in this case, maybe not marked at all?

**Baz**

Snow seems much the same for nearly two weeks. Then one morning he strides out of the front door shortly after I arrive and then just keeps walking. He's not going to the bottle shop or the library, and honestly it doesn't look like he's paying attention to where he's going at all. He's just walking, head down, hands thrust in his pockets when they're not pulling at his hair. He's plainly upset about something.

Is this what I've been waiting for? Has he gotten his soulmark? If that's it, he's unhappy or confused about what it says. He confuses rather easily, actually, and it often looks good on him. Endearing. But when I'm trying to figure out whether he's my one true love I have less time to just enjoy the view.

After a substantial amount of time (and a great deal of hair-pulling – honestly, it's a miracle he's not going bald) we end up in an industrial looking neighborhood. Snow is still striding along when I catch a whiff of something not right. I inhale deeply and I smell something... sour. Alive but not human. There's a man, or what looks like one, walking on the other side of the street, striding along as quickly as Snow is, and he smells wrong. He's dressed a bit like an Elizabethan dandy, and when I catch his reflection in a window, his skin is bright blue.

It's a snobgoblin.

In Greenwich in the middle of the day.

Snobgoblins are usually reclusive. I don't like this.

I like it even less when Snow, still oblivious to his surroundings, walks into a blind alley, and the snobgoblin is joined by two others.

Snow gets halfway down the alley before he realizes it's a dead end. He turns around, and by now there are a half-dozen snobgoblins between him and the alley mouth. They fan out in a half circle and he's still distracted by his thoughts. Something is very wrong and it's time for me to drop my undercover act. I yell “Snow! Grab your sword!” His head snaps up, his eyes on me, but his combat reflexes are astounding. His hand is on his hip and he's speed-muttering the incantation and the Sword of Mages appears. The snobgoblins start pulling out weapons – mostly knives, but also some brass knuckles (platinum knuckles actually – these are  _ snob _ goblins we're talking about). Six more of them join their fellows and it's Snow against a dozen opponents and the battle is joined.

**Simon**

I get into a dead end and start to turn when suddenly, in what was a deserted bit of road just moments ago, I see a crowd of bizarrely-dressed people. Are they people? Or something worse? I'm still trying to figure it out when I hear a familiar but out-of-context voice shout at me to get my sword. I go on autopilot with the incantation while my eyes find the source of the yell. It looks like Baz, which makes no sense at all, but then I'm under attack and I don't have time for thinking. I'm swinging and dodging and backing up to a defensible position, and all the while I'm hearing Baz (Baz!?) casting battle spells.

**Baz**

I know Snow is good, but even for him, 12 armed, human-sized assailants is a lot. I'm not much of a fighter but I need to do what I can to help him. I flick my wand down from my sleeve and cast  **head over heels** on the nearest snobgoblin. She goes tumbling (losing her Gucci sunglasses in the process) but gets right back up and rejoins the pile-up. Simon is laying about himself with the sword and I see two snobs down (and a lot of blood). I strike again with **hit the floor** and then, figuring to disarm some of the attackers,  **drop it** and  **stop, drop, and roll** . I'm having some effect, but they scramble back up remarkably quickly. As the fighting gets more hectic, I'm worried about hitting Snow with my spells. I tuck my wand away, grab a knife dropped by one of the snobgoblins, and strike at the back of the nearest one.

It's harder than you'd think – the weapon glances off the first time – but I'm strong and coordinated, even though I have no experience with hand-to-hand combat (unless you count punching Snow). The snobgoblin spins and I dodge, then strike low on his belly (trashing his waistcoat and getting unspeakable fluids on my cuffs). He's clutching his midsection and I'm shouldering him aside, pushing into the fray towards Snow.

**Simon**

It becomes clear that I'm fighting snobgoblins (no one else is going to come at you in broad daylight with a jeweled dagger and clothes that look like they should be at the opera or someplace similarly posh). I lay into them left and right and can sense Baz getting hands-on. He actually takes one down, which is not bad for a newbie. Then I lose sight of him – I'm busy with the rest of them and taking more hits than I would like. Fortunately, they're not very well-armed – just brass (platinum) knuckles, short blades, and coshes. Unfortunately, there are a lot of them. Fewer as the battle goes on, though.

**Baz**

He's got nearly half of them down, but the remainder have piled over the bodies and gotten him up against the alley wall. They're two deep around him, and while he swings his sword in devastating arcs, he can't cover a full 180 degrees at once. While he's twisting the blade free of the neck of the creature on the far right, two on the extreme left go in low and hard. I head-butt the nearer of the two in the kidney, eliciting a groan and spoiling his blow, but at the same time I feel a hard blow to my right side and hear a nasty crunch. I go down hard and I think I may have a broken rib.

I want to just curl in on myself, but there's no time, and my fear for Snow makes me fearless for myself. I'm back up on my knees, then standing and going for the one who punched me (with platinum knuckles no less). I make a lucky hit and get him in the throat but then I feel an unbelievable pain in my low back, somewhere to the left of my spine. I'm back on my knees and then on the ground, rolling desperately to get my knife between myself and my attacker. 

**Simon**

I dispatch two more, then turn back towards Baz. I see him down, with a snobgoblin towering over him and crouching for a blow. I strike its head from its body and turn back to the last two snobs. I make quick work of them and then rush over to Baz, who is still down. He's in a pool of blood.

**Baz**

Snow continues to hack left and right as I huddle on the ground. I put a hand to the supernova of pain in my back and bring it up covered in blood. I struggle to rise, turning towards Snow, and I see that he's finishing the last two snobgoblins (one in an evening gown and the other in full white tie – well, formerly white). I sink back down, relieved to see him mostly whole. There's a fair amount of blood on his hands and arms – natural, considering what he's been doing with them – but less on the rest of him. My vision is getting a little swimmy.

**Simon**

First things first. I cast  **nothing to see here** on the whole alley, because the last thing we need is a bunch of Normal coppers coming in on what looks like a massacre. Well, I guess it  _ is  _ a massacre, but they started it. Baz looks woozy and I lift him up to see where the blood is coming from. Some of it might be from the snobs, but some of it is definitely his, and he has less to spare than most people. I apply pressure to the cut on his back with the heel of my left hand while supporting his chest with my right arm. He looks vaguely towards me. “Snow?”

“Baz! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Needed to... to... see...”

He's drifting. “Baz! You need help. I don't want to cast on you if I can help it. Can you cast 'physician, heal thyself?”

“Phy...phys... “

Oh hell. I'm going to have to do it myself. “ **Get well soon!** ” He looks a bit better. “Okay, can you do it for yourself now?”

“ **Physician, heal thyself** ” That clearly had magic in it, but his elocution was sloppy (which never happens with Baz). He might be looking a little better.

I hate the idea of casting on him again – logically I shouldn't care whether my rogue spells hurt my nemesis, but battle fever has a way of sending logic out the window – but I don't see a choice. I try one more time. “ **Get well soon!** ”

This time it seems to have really helped him. He holds his head up straighter and his eyes focus on mine.

They're very grey. And deep. I look away, confused. I pull my hand away from his back and check the wound. The blood flow has slowed to nothing, or almost, and he's stirring.

I move around and kneel in front of him. I take him by the shoulders and look him in the eyes again (so grey!). “Baz. What the hell are you doing here? And joining in the fight on my side. Why weren't you just egging them on?”

He looks too wrecked to snark and obfuscate. Good. Maybe I'll get a straight truth out of him for once.

He doesn't say anything, though, just scrabbles at his right wrist. It takes him three tries, but he gets his soul band off and holds his wrist out to me.

Oh.

I guess this is real. I take off my elastic cuff (now soaked with blood and smeared with snobgoblin guts) and hold my wrist out to him. He looks at it in wonder, and then his eyes meet mine with joy, hope, and apprehension. There's a question there.

I've always been shit with words, so I answer him with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! That's the story -- I hope you liked it. 
> 
> Besides my gorgeous, generous betas [annabellelux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabellelux) and [tbazzsnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri/pseuds/tbazzsnow%22), I want to thank [fox_diaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fox_diaz) for some last minute Brit picking.


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